Muggles were disgusting.
Granted, she was looking at a child muggle, so she supposed that it could be the child's age, and not the lack of magical ability, that caused it to giggle shrilly while shoving dirt in it's mouth. It's mother sat on a nearby bench, scolding a slightly taller version of the muggle in front of her.
"Cute, aren't they?" chuckled Dumbledore.
In previous years, when she met with Dumbledore, they always met in Diagon Alley or in his cottage near Godric's Hollow, but this summer he had been taking her to muggle parks instead.
They sat on a wooden bench near the play structure, both looking extremely out of place. She wore her silver summer robes, and he was wearing blinding magenta robe with orange polka dots and a matching hat. Passing muggles kept giving them dirty looks, and she returned them easily.
"Shouldn't we be practicing, I don't know, spells or something?" She scowled at the child, who beamed back at her, drool spilling down it's chin.
Dumbledore smiled mildly. "Whatever for? The sun is out, there's a light breeze, it seems like a perfect day for a nice chat, doesn't it?"
She didn't answer him. There had been a strange tension in their relationship since the summer began. He had thankfully chosen to pretend that nothing had changed, but sometimes she could feel him watching her, as if he were studying her every move.
He looked over at her, and his eyes flickered in something like disappointment. "There was a time when you would have loved to be brought to a Muggle park."
Yes, when she was five. The little muggle reached for her boot, and she drew it back in disgust. "I thought we'd be working on something that had to do with, you know-" she looked around, as if to check that no one could overhear her. "spying on the Dark Lord."
"You really should try to call him by his name sometime. Voldemort is only a man. A talented man, true, but that does not make him superior."
Calling him anything besides "The Dark Lord" seemed wrong, somehow, but she nodded.
"You could very easily be his equal, Hermione."
She nodded, not really believing him. The muggle mother was calling to the child in front of her. It rose to it's feet and toddled back, giggling.
"What do you talk about?"
She swallowed. "Hogwarts, mostly. He tells me about his school days, and I tell him about mine." Her voice was strange, it sounded oddly forced, and she realized that she did not like telling him these things.
"Do you tell him about Harry?"
Nodding, "Mostly about how he does in classes. I don't tell him about… other stuff." Like his crush on Cho, the way he missed his parents, how he once spent an afternoon singing Celestina Warbeck to her in an attempt to cheer her up.
"Good. Good…" He patted his shoulder. "It's always a surprise how fast children grow. I half expect to find a little girl in pigtails with chocolate all over your face. It's so strange to find a young woman instead of my little Hermione."
A small part of her melted a little at her words, and she scooted closer to him, nudging him affectionately, "I haven't changed that much, Uncle Albus."
"There's nothing wrong with change. In fact, many believe it's a good thing. The caterpillar turns into a butterfly, the fledgling learns to fly-" he paused, pursing his lips in thought as he watched a family pack up their picnic. "But sometimes I think you forget."
She frowned, "Forget what?"
"Your parents."
"Oh, I don't think I could ever forget them." laughed Hermione. "Papa is my best friend, and Mother-"
"Not your wizard parents," he interrupted, "your muggle parents." Blue eyes met hers, and a piercing chill shot through her.
She shifted her feet a little, using the opportunity to put some distance between them. "I haven't forgotten them." Not for lack of trying though.
"Ian and Jean."
"What?"
"Those were their names. Ian and Jean Granger. They lived near here, in a little house down the road. We can go see it if you'd like."
Her voice shook a little. It felt like the bench was being shaken beneath her. "I'd rather not."
His smile never faltered, "Perhaps another time, then."
They sat in silence while the park bustled around them. Parents chatted together while their children climbed on the colorful playground equipment. Several children started up a game that involved one child running around to push the others. Her lips curled as one shoved a smaller child to the ground and ran away laughing.
"I imagine you might have played here, in your other life."
Couldn't he tell she didn't want to talk about it? But she just nodded, "Yeah, maybe."
"You would have gone to sleep safe and sound in your bed. With parents who loved you and wanted you."
It felt like something was pushing on her chest, making it difficult to breathe. She bit down on the inside of her cheek, willing her eyes to stop stinging.
"I found a photograph of your parents through a lovely librarian in the village. Your mother looked like you. Same brown hair, same smile. I can show you sometime."
She didn't trust herself to respond. She bit down harder, her mouth filling with the coppery tang of blood.
"You've got your father's nose though."
No, it was her own nose. She was not comprised of dead people's body parts.
"They died to protect you. At the hands of a blood purist with the intent to make you a slave. Do not forget them."
She nodded, hoping it would make him stop talking. Luckily, it worked. Dumbledore sat back and whistled some insane, repetitive tune.
She had never been more grateful to return home in her life. She murmured a quiet "Goodbye" to Dumbledore, and disappeared inside without inviting him in.
Her feet moved instinctively, carrying her up the stairs quickly. The word came first as a whisper, "Papa?" Then merged into a shout when she found his study empty, "PAPA!"
Panic gripped her chest, twisting it painfully so that she was certain she would collapse. "Papa! Papa!" she whirled around, running down the corridor, "Papa!" She was deaf to the slight jingle of Turnip's collar as he joined her in her search.
Where was he? She checked the library, and then raced down to the drawing room, not caring if any unexpected guests were there to witness her in this state. "Papa! PAPA!"
But he wasn't there. The drawing room, was deserted. She lingered in the doorway, clutching onto the brass handle as if it were the only thing keeping the ground from swallowing her whole.
"Hermione?"
A soft, cool hand wrapped around hers, and she was engulfed in the orange blossom scent of her mother's perfume. "Darling, you're crying. What's happened?" Her eyes flicked down to the black mass of fur at Hermione's feet.
"I need-" it felt like her tongue was sticking to the roof of her mouth, and so the words were slightly garbled, "to speak to Papa. Where is he?"
Concern filled the light blue orbs as Narcissa gently turned her daughter around. "He's gone out for the day. I don't expect him to return for hours. Did something happen with Dumbledore?"
Her cheeks burned suddenly, as if they had been slapped. Papa would have understood her, but her mother? "It's stupid," she said, forcing herself to smile. "Just something silly. I was just overreacting for a moment."
Then she was being pulled into the drawing room. Her mother sat down on the sofa, and pulled her down so close that she was practically in her lap. She felt two slim, but strong, arms wrap around her and pull her close so that their heads were pressed together. She could not ever remember being held like this by her mother. Turnip jumped up beside them and laid his head on her lap, but she could not feel the familiar soothing magic that usually came from him when she was like this.
"Now, you listen to me," her mother's voice was gentle but firm, "if someone has hurt you I deserve to know. I don't care if that man is the supposed savior of our kind, I will separate him into thousands of tiny pieces and scatter him across the globe before I allow him to get away with hurting you."
The words made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end, but she found herself melting into the hold. "N-nothing happened. I mean, he did-didn't hurt me. He just t-t-t-talked!"
Narcissa rocked her slowly back and forth, making soothing noises under her breath. "What did you talk about?"
"The G-Granger," sniffled Hermione, allowing her mother to pull her closer. A hand began stroking her hair, and she found her breaths returning to normal.
"What about about the Grangers?"
"Their names were Ian and Jean, and they looked like me." She tried to hold back a sob, and failed. "He told me not to forget that they died to protect me."
She felt her mother nod. "Anything else?"
"He took me to a park by their house, and…"
"And?"
She licked her lips, "He said that they wanted me." As soon as it was out she hoped that she had spoken too quietly for her mother to hear.
The sharp intake of breath told her she had.
"Oh, darling…"
Cheeks burning with shame, Hermione burst into tears. "I'm sorry-"
"No. No, my darling, there's nothing to be sorry for." She slid a finger beneath Hermione's chin and gently tilted it up. "Of course they wanted you. You are a good, clever, beautiful girl. Even muggles can see that. But believe me," her eyes searched Hermione's, and the girl held her breath as she waited for her mother to finish speaking, "We want you more. You are ours, not theirs."
Warmth spread throughout her entire body, and she held her mother's gaze.
"Dumbledore was right that we were hesitant to take in a muggleborn, but your father has loved you from the moment that he met you, and I'm sorry that it took me a little longer-" she reached to wipe the tears from Hermione's cheek, "but I got over myself, and I love you just as much as I would have if I had carried you for nine months. You are my daughter, and I will never die to protect you-" a smile curved her lips, "because I am going to protect you forever."
From the corner of her eye she could see Turnip's fur gleaming a buttery yellow. "I love you, Mother."
Narcissa laughed, and pressed a kiss to her forehead, "I love you too, darling. More than you will ever know."
"He's going to make me go to their old home."
"Let him." Her fingers tapped against Hermione's skull, "I'm going to tell you something that my mother told me before I left for Hogwarts."
Hermione nodded, drinking in every word.
"People in our world are going to want to use you. They are going to do anything to manipulate you into who they want you to be, but we are not the pawns. We are the Queens." She tapped Hermione playfully on the nose, "Play your parts for the old fools, but don't forget that you are a Malfoy. We have no superiors."
Hermione nodded, and laid her head back down against her mother's chest. The hand resumed stroking her hair, and between that and her mother's steady, comforting heartbeat she was soon asleep.
Hermione slept for the rest of the day, and Narcissa was content to lay on the sofa with her daughter in her arms, thinking about the situation they had found themselves in. It was one thing to feign composure in front of a distraught teenager, but quite another to keep her anger under control as she thought about what Dumbledore had tried to pull today.
It was obvious that he was trying to drive a wedge between Hermione and her family. But it also seemed to her that he was trying to make her feel guilty that the muggles had done what any parent would have in order to save their child.
She was so angry, she could spit. But she didn't, she swallowed her rage, and concentrated on holding Hermione tight- the way she should have the first night the girl had come to them.
That was how Lucius found them. He strolled into room after Turnip let out a greeting bark, smelling like fresh night air and pipe smoke.
"Is everything ok?" he asked, bending to pet the wubble.
She shook her head. "I need to go out. Can you put her to bed? She'll probably sleep through the night. She was very upset." She could feel her eyes flashing dangerously as he examined her.
"Dumbledore?"
She nodded. "He told her that her muggle parents wanted her."
"Oh." Understanding dawned on his face. "Where's Draco, did he hear her-"
"He's at the Macmillan place."
He exhaled slowly, and moved to draw Hermione into his arms. "Not as easy as it used to be," he commented, laughing quietly as he stood. "I remember when she was so small I could do this with one arm."
"Mhmm," she stood slowly, wincing as she blood rush back into her legs. With a wave of her wand, she changed Hermione's robes into a blue nightgown with purple pegasus' flying cheerfully.
"I thought she threw this away years ago."
Narcissa arched a brow and tapped her wand against her chin. "She did, but we couldn't get rid of Percival, could we?"
He grinned in response, and moved to take their daughter to bed. Pausing at the door, he called back over his shoulder, "Stay safe."
"I always do."
As much as she would love to go to Dumbledore's residence and remove him from their lives, she knew that they still needed him.
Instead, she apparated to a muggle street. The night was still young, and the windows of the houses lining either side were lit, their inhabitants settling in for the night.
She scanned the shining letters by each door, looking for number twenty. Half an hour was passed this way, with her stalking down the street trying to find number twenty.
Finally, she found it. Or at least, she assumed that she found it. Nestled between numbers nineteen and twenty one was a cozy little house without a number. A shady willow tree arched over the side, and the front garden was neat and organized.
Heart in her throat, she opened the gate. It clanged noisily shut behind her, and she swore under her breath as the light above the front door switched on.
She took a deep breath and marched to the door, raising her hand to knock-
But it opened before she could touch it. An angry face peered out through a crack in the door, it's voice snarling-
"What are you doing here?"
She had an eloquent speech planned. Really, she had spent months perfecting it. But when she opened her mouth what came out was-
"I came to ask if you would help me save my children."
Brown eyes narrowed in suspicion, and Narcissa felt her pulse quicken.
"Please," she pleaded, not caring that she was begging, "I know I don't deserve your help, but I didn't know where else to go."
"Where's your wand?"
Narcissa quickly pulled it from her sleeve and held it up.
"Hand it over, I'm not letting you into my house if you're armed."
"I wouldn't hurt you," said Narcissa, but she passed it over anyway.
There was a disbelieving scoff, but the door was opened wider anyway. "You have thirty minutes."
Narcissa sighed in relief, "Thank you, Andromeda. You won't regret this."
Her sister's eyes did not soften. "I better not."
A/N: I wanted to include another warm and fuzzy chapter before the story gets darker. This is a little later than I anticipated. I've had a horrible cold that has made concentrating very diffucult- that being said there may be more typos than usual in this chapter so I apologize.
Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed/favorited/followed. Your reviews always make my day when I read them. I love you guys! Please let me know what you think of this one.